Chapter 12
“NYPD is asking for any information regarding the fatal car bombing of one of their own. It’s been two weeks since Sergeant Murphy was pronounced dead at the scene. Investigators say there have been no new leads…”
The name of the officer has me reaching towards the coffee table, hoping Tilly doesn’t notice.
“Wait. Leave that on.” She swipes up the remote before I can change the channel.
We’ve been holed up in the living room for hours. She’s been studying while I’ve been working on my laptop. The television was on as purely background noise, neither of us actually watching it until now.
“That’s the cop who arrested me,” Tilly says, pointing when the asshole’s photo pops up on the screen.
“Is it?” I feign disinterest, keeping my gaze on my laptop instead.
“Antonio?” Tilly shifts on the sofa, tucking her legs up underneath her as she turns to face me.
Don’t ask. I can’t lie to you, and there are just some things you’re better off not knowing,I plead with her in my head before I look up.
“Matilda?”
“Do you know anything about that car bombing?”
“Why? You looking to cash in on the reward money? If you need funds, ragazza, all you had to do was ask.”
“First, we don’t talk to cops. So even if I did know something and I was in need of money, I wouldn’t be getting it from them,” she says, holding up a finger.
Her words bring a smile to my face. Who would have thought dating a mafia princess would make things so much easier for me? She knows the life. I don’t have to worry about her freaking out or running off to rat me out to the Feds.
“Second, I don’t need your money. I have plenty of my own. Well, technically, it all comes from my parents, I guess. Since they’re the ones who gave me a trust.” She shrugs.
“You are fucking perfect, Matilda.” I set my laptop on the coffee table. Pick up the textbook she has opened and toss it onto the floor.
“Hey, I was reading that.” She stares at the now discarded book.
“You don’t even need to study. You’re the smartest person I know.” I pull her onto my lap, her legs settling on each side of mine.
“Don’t distract me, Antonio. Why was that pig barbecued?” she asks.
My lips tug at one side at her attempt at talking code. “Maybe he touched something that didn’t belong to him? Maybe he didn’t listen when he was told to forget about that same something?”
Tilly takes a deep breath. “I… I get how your brain works and all, but… that doesn’t mean I condone reckless violence. That man was a cop, Antonio.” She looks around the room and lowers her voice. “What if they figure out it was you?”
“I never said I did anything, Matilda,” I remind her.
“Okay, so I should assume I have another unhinged admirer in this city? Some vigilante out there defending my honor? Maybe I should go search for him?” She tries to remove herself from my lap.
I hold on to her hips tighter, keeping her in place. “You really want the sidewalk painted red, ragazza? Because I will go on a killing spree if you even think about talking to another man.”
Tilly’s eyes widen. “Don’t do that. I am not cut out to be a prison girlfriend.” As soon as she says the words, she freezes. “I mean, not that we’re… not that I…”
“You are. My girlfriend. But we can easily change that and make you my wife instead?” I shrug. “If you don’t like the word girlfriend, that is.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I mean, I like girlfriend just fine. I didn’t want to assume…”
“Assume all you want, babe.” I press my lips against hers.
“Bro, come on! Get a room,” Emillio grunts from the doorway.
“We’re in a room.” I glare at him.
“This is public space. One we share. Also, we gotta go,” he tells me with a pointed glare.
I glance at the time on my watch and curse under my breath. “Sorry, ragazza, but he’s right. I gotta go. Want me to drive you home? Or do you want to stay here until I get back?”
Tilly looks around the room. “Um… is it okay if I just stay and keep studying?” she asks while chewing on her bottom lip.
“Of course it’s fucking okay.” I kiss her one more time before picking her up and sitting her ass on the other end of the sofa. “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” I tell her.
“That’s fine. I understand,” she says. “Just stay in one piece, Antonio,” she adds before I make it to the door.
“Always the plan, Matilda.”
I look around the room. We’re holed up in the back of a little Mexican spot. There are two exits. One through the restaurant, the other through the kitchen. I have five men with me, including Emillio and Rafe. Hernando has ten. Fucker knows he’s pushing his luck with me right now.
Leaning forward with my elbows resting on the table, I’m the epitome of calm, cool, and collected. “You’re wasting my time, Hernando. I don’t know who the fuck you think I am, but let me tell you who the fuck I’m not.” I pause, waiting until everyone in the room has shut their traps. “I’m not a fucking chump you can take for a ride. You and I both know this deal you’re offering me is an insult. It’s also not fucking happening.” I push the piece of paper back across the table. “Take this and shove it up your ass,” I tell him as I stand. “And lose my number while you’re at it.” Then I walk out the door that leads to the restaurant.
A string of expletives sound out behind me. I don’t bother to turn around. I’m the one with the product, and he’s the one insulting me by trying to cut me short.
As soon as we’re back inside the SUV, Emillio barks out a loud laugh. “Shit, bro, you trying to get us all filled with lead?” He shakes his head.
“Fucker wasn’t going to shoot us.” I roll my eyes.
“Where to, boss?” This comes from Rafe, who’s positioned beside me in the driver’s seat.
“Sin.”
“You sure you don’t want to rush home to your girlfriend?” Emillio taps my shoulder from the back seat.
“No, because as soon as we get to Sin, you’re going home. And I know you’ll watch her as carefully as you’d watch me,” I tell him.
“You do know she’s got her own family to take bullets for her. She doesn’t need us.” He sighs.
“What’s your problem with Matilda?” I ask him.
“I don’t have a problem with her specifically. I have a problem with her last name, and the fact that as soon as her family finds out what the two of you have been doing behind closed doors or should I say out in the open in living rooms… yeah, it ain’t gonna end too well for anyone.”
“You’re being dramatic,” I grunt. “It’ll be fine.”
Rafe follows me into the office at Sin, closing the door behind us. “What are we going to do about Hernando?” he asks.
“Nothing. Let him rot.” I pour two glasses of whiskey, handing one to Rafe and keeping one for myself, before walking around my desk and sitting down.
A stark white envelope catches my attention. There’s nothing written on it. So I open it and tip out the contents. The moment I do, my stomach drops and the whiskey I just downed threatens to come back up. Pictures of Tilly are scattered in front of me.
Picking up the single piece of paper that was included with the mess of scrapbook photos, I read the words out loud. “The deal is on or she’s ours.” I look up at Rafe. “They’re fucking dead. All of them,” I hiss out as I swipe an arm across the desk, pushing everything onto the floor. “Fuck!” I curse before slamming my fist into the closest wall.